I want to dedicate this to my cousin, Cailee Green, who is still here with me, but no doubt was bullied for her eyes being two different colors. I love you, Cailee.
A young girl grows up in a small town. She was amazing. She was smart, she was talented, she was brave, and she was pretty. But most people over-looked that. They focused elsewhere; her eyes.This girl was born with two different colored eyes; left a grayish blue, right a blue-ish green. You'd think that make her special and unique. But no, it was the opposite. Kids bullied her because of her eye color. It was different, yes. But different is good. Or so she told herself. Everyday, she would run home crying to her parents; every day since first grade, even. Kids would point and laugh. Or run away screaming mean things, like "Watch out, the demon is coming!" Or even "Careful, the alien may suck out your souls if you look into it's eyes."
No one understood her. She'd move from school to school, but it was all the same. She'd sit alone at lunch, she'd walk home by herself every weekend, and she had no friends. Her reputation was known as being a freak. She tried her hardest in everything so that people would see her for something other than a freak, an alien, a demon. She made straight As, she was very athletic, especially in track, and had the voice of an angel when she sang. But no one cared to see her for what she truely was. Even adults wandered to the other side of the side walk when they saw her. In her freshman years, people pushed her around. They would shove her in lockers, and leave her in there overnight, they would try to run her over in their vehicles, they even ganged up on her and beat her up some days. Those days were days she never returned to school that week on. These were also the days when she would find glass on the road and cut herself with.
After another year in high school, her parents bought her a small wild pony that most people saw as pathetic and ugly. But she loved it. She took great care of the pony. Fed it twice a day, brushed it's mane, tail, and coat daily, refilled it's bucket, and talked to it. That pony became her only true friend. One day in school, she was ganged up on again. She stood there, not even bothering to resist the gang, when another high schooler stopped them. He walked to the center of the mob, and smiled down at her. He took her hand and led her away from the crowd, who gasped and whispered in shock. The high schooler let go of her hand when they were in a safe area in the school yard and introduced himself. He was a new kid in town, and moved around alot because of bullying too. He didn't even seem to notice her eyes. He just wanted to be a friend. The next day, when she saw the high schooler again, he was battered, and severely bruised. He was with a group of popular kids, and when she tried to say hello to him, they led him away with whispers and backward glances. They had gathered some guys to beat him up, and then trick him into saying that it was her fault. She ran home crying and cutting again.When she got home, she looked in the mirror, and it all came flooding back to her as she stared at her own reflection. She was beautiful. Almost-brown-blonde long hair, natural pinkish cheeks, few barely visible freckles. But that isn't what she saw. She just stared at her reflection and cried. She ran over to her drawer and found her glass shard, and traced over one of her previous scars. She just kept cutting and crying, deeper and deeper. Until she cut found a vein. And cut right through it.
She screamed and dropped the glass, clutching her wrist to her heart as it bled out. She ran outside to her pony, and hugged it's neck tightly. She then whispered "I'm sorry..." into her pony's soft ears, and layed down on the hay. The pony slowly layed down beside her. She stroked her pony's soft, silk fur coat as her wrist bled out more. And she fell asleep, though it was more like passing out from blood loss.
Her parents found her bloody, dirty body on the hay, laying beside the pony and immediately ran over to her. The grabbed her scarred wrist to check for a pulse, but quickly released how pale and cold she was. Her mother cried as she kissed her daughter's hand over and over, pleading with God to bring her back.
The pony starved itself to death; once she never came back, it stopped eating, or doing anything. Her parents decorated the girl's room so it was as if she was still with them. The school grieved a little even. The student who was fooled visited her grave every day, bringing flowers and apology notes. The girl was in a better place now. She danced and sang with friends, and ate food with her own little group, and spent every passing minute smiling and giggling with friends. Heaven, as some people would call it. No one judged her for her eyes or anything. And for once, she was happy.